


No Return

by CassFear84



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Antonio just wants to be loved, Artistic Liberties, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, Tension, Voight is a hunk and you know it, hots for the boss, people don't die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassFear84/pseuds/CassFear84
Summary: Antonio Dawson is in love with Hank Voight. You try to work under those circumstances.
Relationships: Antonio Dawson/Hank Voight
Comments: 86
Kudos: 91





	1. Thanks, Universe!

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in YEARS. This is my comeback.  
> I also commit to finishing all my other WIPS from Hawaii Five-0 and Fast and Furious.  
> Jon Seda is hot. I just wanted to say that.

CHAPTER 1  
Thanks, Universe!

I’d been warned against working for Voight. God, had I been warned. A hundred times. No, scratch that, a _thousand_ times. _He’s too head-strong. He’s dirty. He goes overboard too easily_. I’d heard it all. Hell, I’d _seen_ it all. Everyday since I’d started in the Intelligence Unit, I’d seen all those comments come to life. And they were all right. Voight was headstrong and a little too intense. A little too aggressive, a little too _much_.

And you know what? I _liked_ it. That’s what no one had warned me about. No one had told me I would like working for a guy like that. No one had thought to give me a heads up about the man’s sex appeal either. That would have been nice. Someone could have casually dropped a _hey, don’t be surprised if you get a boner when he gets all up and personal with you, it happens, don’t sweat it._ It would have been appreciated… a lot.

Unfortunately for me, no one had the decency to do that and now here I was, sitting in a car with Hank Voight, head of the Intelligence Unit, working one of the most difficult cases the Chicago PD had ever seen, and simultaneously trying to hide my arousal. _Thanks, Universe!_

“Antonio!” Voight barked angrily.

I snapped back to reality, feeling my cheeks flush. Dammit, I’d zoned out again and Hank was not happy about it. He must have been trying to get my attention for a while if he was _this_ annoyed. Still, the inconvenience in my pants remained, so I had to sort of cross my legs in a really awkward and uncomfortable way so that I could turn to him and hide it at the same time.

“Yeah” I replied, giving my best innocent look.

Voight smirked at that, though he did what he could to hide it. Hey, don’t you ever doubt the Dawson look. My siblings and I used to do it to our grandma, to keep from getting grounded. She said we got it from her husband, the first Dawson. _That gringo always knew how to melt my heart_ , she would say. And just the memory of her husband was enough for her to forget what we’d done. Worked like a charm.

“Where the hell are you, man?” Voight asked, his tone much more relaxed now.

I sighed. Sometimes I wanted to tell him. But tell him what, exactly? That I was attracted to him? No way. First of all, he’d love that. I’m pretty sure he would be peacocking all around the district if I said anything about that. The man was so proud of himself, so confident. I envied that. I wished I could be like that, you know? Just naturally sure of myself and happy that everyone noticed it. I was way too insecure to even think about saying that. Secondly, if he didn’t take it well, it would be the end. Not just the end of my working relationship with him, but the end of my career too. This wasn’t a guy you wanted to cross. Granted, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t really be offended, even if he didn’t reciprocate. But that one percent of a doubt kept me safe from outing myself. So, yeah. That’s that.

“I guess I’m more tired than I realized” I lied. To be honest, I did sound pretty strained. The fact that it was from hiding my physical reaction to him was my little secret.

Voight eyed me suspiciously and for a second there, I thought he had caught on. But then he gave a small shrug and directed his gaze back to the house we were staking out.

“We _have_ been sitting here for three hours,” he conceded, rotating his neck to loosen the muscles.

And man, did I have to clench my fists to keep myself from reaching out to massage his shoulder. I’m telling you, this job was gonna kill me. If a perp didn’t do it, then this constant aching to touch him would. And I could feel it too. I could totally imagine feeling those tense muscles relaxing under my touch. From the way we were sitting, I could easily rest my elbow on the head rest and use the tips of my fingers to rub circles where his neck and his shoulder met. That was also a very good spot to press my lips to, feel the soft skin, maybe even graze my teeth across the tender flesh-

“Antonio!” Voight barked again, this time snapping his fingers right in front of my eyes.

_Dammit!_ I’d done it again. I sat up right and moved my head from side to side, pretending to stretch.

“Sorry, boss” I said quickly. My cheeks were flushing… again.

“Yeah, I better go get that coffee before you pass out” he said it with a smile, and that kind of melted my heart, like grandma used to say.

Stupid shit like this made me feel like Voight cared about me. Which was bad, because it fed the ridiculous idea that my feelings might actually be met. Which gave me hope, which was then crushed repeatedly on a daily basis.

Voight didn’t give me time to protest, or even offer to go get the coffee myself. He patted my leg lightly and got out of the car in the direction of the coffee shop around the corner.

I punched my leg where he had touched it, to make the warmth go away. And when did I start daydreaming like a school girl anyway? I had to get a grip on myself before I made a mistake that caused us the case.

With that in mind, I set my gaze back on the house we were watching. The guy we were looking for, some scumbag who had been trafficking girls from Eastern Europe to sell them as slaves, had been last seen in this address. It was a long shot, but it was our best lead. The rest of the team had been on a man hunt for the guy’s transporter. We thought that was the guy who brought the girls under the false pretense of giving them a job, and then our guy distributed them to different houses.

Now, the transporter could leave the country any minute, so the rest of the team was on the lookout for him with urgency. But Voight really wanted to get his hands on the local boss, and I volunteered to help because, well… Because I needed some alone time with Voight, if only to just smell his cologne. _Smell his cologne_ , when did I start thinking like that? When did my life go from catching bad guys and living a married life, to volunteering for stakeouts so that I could smell my boss?

I glanced at my watch. Voight had gone to get coffee about five minutes ago. Not enough time to actually get the coffee, but I couldn’t help looking back in the direction of the shop, on the off chance he was coming back, even if that meant taking my eyes off the house. You know how some people like to watch someone walking from behind? Well, me and Voight? Total opposite. I _loved_ watching him walk towards me. Maybe it was the way he moved his shoulders back and forth, or maybe it was the illusion that he was coming towards me, like I was the only person he wanted to see.

_Hey, don’t be surprised if you get a boner when he gets all up and personal with you, it happens, don’t sweat it._ Yeah, that would have been nice to know upfront.

I’m not gonna lie here. When I saw him turning the corner towards the car, my breath caught a little, my cheeks flushed yet again, and I couldn’t stop the stupid smile from forming on my face. I had to turn around in the seat, facing forward again. I knew I should have my eyes fixed on the house, but they were fixed on the rearview mirror. Man, that walk. He swayed when he walked. Who the fuck walks like that? Voight, of course.

"So?" Voight asked, getting into the driver's seat and handing me a black coffee, no sugar, no milk, just a dash of cinnamon. How did he know my taste so well? "How was the view?"

I did a double take at that. Was he asking me about the stakeout or had he seen me watching him? With this guy, the way he was smirking, there was no way to really tell.


	2. Slow Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voight's tired of waiting in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!!!!  
> I'm enjoying this a lot, I hope you are too!

CHAPTER 2  
Slow Motion

This was stupid. And a waste of valuable time. The team had already caught the other guy, had him down in the cage and were getting ready to break him. Well, Olinsky was probably getting ready, while the others wouldn’t move a finger until Voight gave the go-ahead. He was the boss, not just in title, but in respect. There was no doubt who was the head in that unit. _Everyone_ , even dear old Al, bowed down to Voight.

A wave of pride washed over me, and I crushed it back down immediately. I had nothing to be proud of. Voight was Voight. We were two separate people. Nothing tied us together and I had no business feeling proud over his achievements. I was starting to feel embarrassed over my own thoughts. A platonic crush on your boss is one thing, but I was starting to cross a mental line that I wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“Well, this was a bust” Voight sighed, running a hand across his face.

That was his _I’m-tired gesture_. I knew his body language well enough. The head-cock to the right was his _are-you-out-of-your-mind?_ gesture. And then, there was my favorite. Tongue slightly visible through parted lips. That was the _I’m-gonna-fucking-kill-you face_. Look at me, knowing all his facial expressions. Well, not all. I wondered what his _I-want-to-fuck-you_ face looked like. _Not the time, Dawson_.

“It wasn’t a complete bust” I said instead, trying to do _anything_ but look him in the eye. This guy had a special radar for sketchy shit going on in your mind. “I mean, at least we know the guy isn’t staying here. He has to be shacking up wherever he’s keeping the girls.”

Voight nodded slowly, then wet his lips lightly. God, those lips. A man can only hold it in his pants for so long thinking about lips like that. They weren’t full, they looked soft. They weren’t even cracked from the cold. No, they were smooth. The kind of lips you could spend ages kissing and never stop.

“... hiding out” he was saying. It took me a minute or two to come back down to reality. I’d missed the first part but didn’t want to say it. I’d look like a fool. “I’ll just walk up to the corner and back, just to be safe. You stay here and watch my back.”

Now, don’t ask me why, but I wasn’t comfortable with staying in the car. At the time, I thought it was my feelings making me possessive, not letting me stay too away from the object of my desires. Talking to the team, later that day, I would call it instinct.

Whatever it was, something made me get out the car with Voight and keep my gun hidden but handy. I also double checked I had my phone.

Voight regarded me with an incredulous look.

“What did I just tell you?” he asked, shaking his head. He was more amused than angry.

“What can I tell you? I need to stretch my legs” I shrugged. Also, I wanted to be close to him. I _needed_ to be close to him, I just didn’t fully understand why then. I guess I’m not a cop for nothing, huh?

We walked up the street together, acting like just two regular guys who needed to get somewhere. I gotta tell you, I was enjoying it. For a moment, it felt like we were an item, a couple, walking together. And I could picture us walking to a café to get something hot to fight the cold Chicago streets, maybe talk about our day. Sad, huh? Instead of imagining hot sex, I imagined a nice date.

I started laughing to myself, and that got Voight’s attention.

“What’s going on in that head of yours today?” His tone was friendly, soft. So unlike him. He didn’t often talk like that. That tone was reserved for his friends, the closest ones. Lindsay, Al, and very few times, me. I felt warm at that thought. Had I become part of his inner circle? Did that mean I had a shot?

I didn’t have time to ponder that any further. I _heard_ it before I saw it. Or maybe I sensed it, I don’t know. Coming straight from the house we had been watching all day, a bullet. I swear everything became slow motion for me right then. Voight was still looking at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, head slightly turned to the right. I remember feeling warm despite the weather. Voight had that effect on me. A little girl and her mom were buying flowers from a street vendor. The girl had blue ribbons in her hair and was wearing a long light blue coat. Maybe they were going to a christening, or a wedding. A cab was parked a few feet away from us, near the suspect’s house, and the driver’s side mirror shattered as the gunshot hit it. I saw the plastic holding the mirror break and fall to the floor.

Beside me, Voight’s eyes widened and he reached out to me with his right hand. I think he was trying to get me out of the line of fire. I didn’t even have time to lift my own hand to meet his before the second shot was fired and Voight’s face turned red, veins straining in his effort to stay upright. My heart stopped at that exact moment. I couldn’t feel anything, couldn't hear anything else. But I could _see_. And what I saw broke my heart. Voight was falling to the floor, blood pouring from a wound on his neck or shoulder, I couldn’t really tell. There was a lot of blood and it was starting to drench the front of his jacket.

At that point, time caught up to speed and I was able to move again. I caught Voight’s body as it was crumbling to the floor, people were screaming, the little girl was crying as her mother lifted her up in her arms and rushed away from the scene. A car came to a halt right in front of us, clearly confused about the commotion in the street and afraid he’d accidentally run over someone. It gave me the chance to take cover behind it.

Applying pressure to Voight’s wound - it was the neck after all- I reached for my phone and speed-dialed Platt. My voice was unnaturally steady as I spoke the saddest words I’d ever had to say.

“This is Dawson. Send everyone. Voight’s been shot. I repeat, Voight’s down. Send help”.

Everything became a blur after that.


	3. A Gentleman Always Carries a Handkerchief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voight's down. Antonio realizes something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 already! I am really in love with this story.
> 
> Thank you to all the wonderful people who leave comments and kudos!
> 
> You give me a reason to keep writing!

CHAPTER 3  
A gentleman always carries a handkerchief

You know those action movies where the hero can single-handedly assist the injured _and_ take down the gunner? Yeah, that’s not what happened here. I wanted to take down the gunner, _believe me_. But that meant I had to stop putting pressure on Voight’s wound and possibly leave him to bleed out. No way in hell was I gonna let that happen.

It’s not like I was being irresponsible either. Two shots were fired. The one that broke the cab’s mirror and the one that hit Voight. Once the Sergeant was down, it was over. I was sure of that. As terrified as I was, as a cop I am fully capable of assessing any endangering situation regardless of the stress, thank you very much. There were no other injured, no more damage. Which pissed me off, because it meant that the guy had been staking _us_ out. Son of a bitch.

“...tonio” Voight tried to speak, but his voice was merely a whisper. Luckily, no blood was coming from his mouth. That was a relief.

“Shh, keep your strength” I said, trying to sound even. I guess I wasn’t as cool and collected as I made myself out to be.

Voight closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, looking me straight in the eye. His breathing was laboured, but he knew just as well as I did what he had to do in order to get to hospital alive. _Keep your mouth shut, stay awake, don’t forget to breathe._ I could tell he wanted to tell me something but now was not the time. Maybe he was worried about the shooter coming out and finishing the job. I know I was.

I chanced a glance over the car’s window. I guess the driver had seen me crouching behind the passenger’s door and, thankfully, he’d stopped the engine. At least I had a good cover. That is if the guy didn’t decide he’d rather speed the hell away.

“Hey, man! You need any help over there?” he asked from inside. He had a New York accent, or maybe New Jersey? It didn’t really matter.

And actually, now that he was offering, I did need some help.

“You think you could come out here and keep pressure on this wound?” I asked. I hated the fact that I sounded desperate. Voight was counting on me. Desperate was not reliable. I cleared my throat and breathed in and out a couple of times to get my heart rate down a notch.

  
The driver came out, crouching too, afraid he’d get shot. He was wearing a suit, but it looked old. I noticed he was missing his wedding ring, the white line on his ring finger was a dead giveaway. Maybe he was going to the courthouse today.

“Listen,” I said as he reached my side. I took his hand and put it over the handkerchief I’d been using to cover the wound. _A gentleman always carries a handkerchief_ , grandma used to say. I was glad I’d listened to her. “I need you to keep the pressure steady. Make sure he doesn’t lose consciousness, OK?”

The guys nodded nervously and did as instructed. Thank god he was willing to help. I wondered if there was any way I could repay him for this. I could get rid of a parking ticket or something. I’d figure that out later, though. Now, I needed to canvas the area.

“I’m gonna go see where the shooter is,” I said, making my way around the car.

“Whoa! Hold on, man! That guy is _armed_! We should wait for the cops.”

I smirked and showed him my badge and the gun I was holding. The guy sighed in relief and nodded for me to go do what I had to do.

I took one last look at Voight. His eyes were focused on me. I tried to smile encouragingly, but he looked so pale, so fragile, it made my eyes tear up. I diverted my eyes and blinked hard a couple of times. He was going to be OK. He had to. He was going to be fine. I kept repeating that, like a mantra, as I made my way closer to the house. The street was almost empty now. Everyone who’d been near had either made a run for it or gone inside as soon as they heard the shots. I couldn’t blame them. I was just thankful that the driver had stopped.

As I inched closer to the door, I felt something was off. Again, those cop instincts kicking in, I guess. I looked up to the sky, just in time to see a fucking TV falling right on top of me. I barely had time to jump out the way. I tripped and fell on my face as the screen smashed against the floor at my feet.

“Antonio!” I heard Ruzek’s voice call after me and for the second time, I thanked god for my good luck. “What the fuck? Are you OK?”

“Get Voight! Is the bus here yet?” I was shouting, and sounding desperate again. I stood up on shaky legs and leaned against the wall.

I looked back towards the car and saw a paramedic tending to Voight. If I hadn’t been leaning on that wall, I would have fallen to my knees. It was as if all my strength had been drained from my body. Suddenly, I didn’t care if the shooter got away. I just needed to make sure that Voight was alright.

“Who shot you?” Lindsay appeared next to Ruzek, her eyes screamed murder. Yeah, mine did too. “Was it the trafficker?”

We still hadn’t ID’d the guy, so we had no way to refer to him. We called him ‘perp’, ‘trafficker’, ‘douchebag’. It would have been funny under different circumstances. I massaged my chest. Why was it hurting so much? It was like all of the sudden I couldn’t get in enough air. I had to grab onto my knees to keep myself up.

Ruzek put a hand on my shoulder. “Were you hit?”

I shook my head and stood upright again. I had to keep it together, at least for five minutes. But I knew _exactly_ what was happening to me. I’d felt the exact same way when Pulpo’s men had taken Diego. I felt like I was drowning and everything happened in slow motion again. Talking was an effort, _thinking_ was an effort. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I was starting to get dizzy on my feet.

The truth is, my heart was breaking. I was in love with Hank Voight and it took him almost dying in my arms for me to come to terms with it.


	4. Dumb and hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ride to the hodpital has Antonio on edge. Sylvie tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!!!!
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, they give me life!

CHAPTER 4  
Dumb and hot

When Sylvie, the paramedic, asked who wanted to ride back to the hospital, I didn’t even hesitate. Suspect be damned, I wasn’t going to stay back.

Al put a hand on my arm as I was about to get on the ambulance.

“Hey, he’ll be fine.” He said, his voice was soft, like he knew he was standing between myself and something important. “We need you to help us look for this guy.”

Now, normally, I’m a chill guy. Normally, I would have shrugged and very politely argued that I had already given the description to Ruzek and there was nothing else I could do. I don’t usually raise my voice, really. I just don’t see the need to. No, raising my voice, or even shouting, is reserved for very special occasions. You can figure out what _this_ was on your own.

“You think I don’t wanna catch that guy!” I shouted. Yes, shouted, and in Alvin’s face nonetheless. But you know what, fuck it. This called for a little agitation. “Of course I do! He shot my fucking boss in front of my fucking face and I couldn’t help him! Now, you can go on a wild goose chase and find that son of a bitch. I’m getting on this ambo.”

  
I was angry. More than angry, I was scared. And I don’t do too well with being scared. Al’s hand was still on my arm and I shoved it away, forcefully. He winced and took a step back from me, lifting his hands in surrender. I was fuming, one hand on the ambulance door handle and still looking at Olinsky, daring him to try and stop me again. He didn’t. Instead, he nodded and turned towards the rest of the team. I didn’t waste any more time and climbed on. Sylvie climbed in after me and the driver closed the doors.

I think Sylvie was talking to me, but to be honest I couldn’t hear her. Or I didn’t care enough to pay attention. Not that what she was saying wasn’t important. It’s just that my entire focus was on Voight and how pale he looked strapped to the gurney. I could barely stand it. I had never seen him like this before. In all the years we’d worked together, not once had he been shot. _Haven’t had the pleasure_ , he used to say. Why did it have to happen today? With me, of all people. I sighed heavily and ran a hand across my face. I needed to clear my head. Voight was fine, we were on the way to Chicago Med, he was going to be just fine. _But what if he isn’t…_

I felt a hand on my leg. Sylvie had reached out from across the gurney and was giving me a reassuring smile.

“No one’s tougher than Hank Voight”, she said. “And luckily you were there to stop the bleeding. You acted quickly, Antonio. He’s going to be back in the district before you know it.”

I sighed in relief when she said that. She smiled a little wider, almost coyly. _Uh oh… I know that look._

We’d had a thing, a couple of years back. I had just gotten my divorce finalized, and Sylvie was young and beautiful. I’ll admit, I didn’t really give it my all. Even back then, I had my eyes on Voight already. And as much as I hated to admit it, she had been a good distraction. I should be embarrassed to say this, but the truth is, she wasn’t the _only_ distraction. I’m not going to give any names, but back when I was discovering my attraction to Voight, I might have had a rump in the night with a certain doctor from Chicago Med. And no, I’m not going to say who it was, _you pervs_. I might be having an identity crisis, but I’m still a gentleman. And it’s not like it went any further than a supply closet anyway. That’s about the time I understood that, whatever was going on with me, was directly related to the guy lying limp in front of me.

“I hope you’re right,” I replied. Then I laughed a little, and Sylvie gave me an odd look. “I don’t want to have to deal with _Lindsay_.”

Sylvie laughed out loud at that, and I remembered why it had been so easy to fall into bed with her. She really was all smiles and good times. It made me wonder.

“So, what’s up in your life?” she asked.

I shrugged nonchalantly and Sylvie huffed a laugh, then flipped her hair back. _I don’t need this right now,_ I thought. I could feel the pheromones coming off her. I’d had no idea she was still into me. Not that it would have stopped me from getting in the ambo, but still.

“No answer, huh?,” she winked. I did my best not to grimace at that. Poor girl. She was barking up the wrong tree, she just didn’t know it.

I didn’t want to be rude, though. It felt like offending the M.E. who was taking care of Voight was the wrong move. So instead, I smiled a little, or tried to anyway. I mean, I’d done this before, right? Granted, last time _she_ had seduced _me_. And I sure as hell wasn’t trying to seduce her now, but a little harmless flirting wouldn’t hurt. It might even help me get my mind off the blood-soaked gauze on Voight’s neck. I cleared my throat.

“It’s just been so busy,” I lied. I’m pretty sure she could tell, too. Her hand was still on my leg, which kept bouncing uncontrollably because I was so fucking scared Voight wasn’t gonna make it to the hospital.

“I know, right?” she replied, casually. Thankfully, we were approaching our destination and she took her hand away in order to readjust her kit. “I guess the district and the hospital aren’t all that different. We are always just running, and life just kinda passes us by.”

I was saved from having to answer because the ambulance came to a stop and Sylvie got up to release the gurney from its clasps. I just sat there, not knowing what to do. The driver opened the doors and we were greeted by a familiar face.

“Alright, people, let’s move!” Mags, the head nurse in the E.R. started barking orders as soon as the doors opened. “This is Hank Voight, we gotta give him the V.I.P. treatment or _so help me God_ I’m gonna have your head!”

That made me smile. Mags noticed and winked at me, then rushed off with the rest to take Voight inside.

I was in a bit of a daze as I got out of the ambulance. Suddenly, the fresh air just seemed like too much. People were coming and going all around me and, for a second there, I was too disoriented to know where to go.

“Hey, Detective!” Mags called out to me from the other side. She was keeping the E.R. doors open and giving me a pointed look. “Are you coming? Or are you just gonna stay there looking dumb and hot at the same time?”

I blushed and ducked my head as I made my way inside. _Damn_ , Mags could replace Platt at the desk any time.


	5. The Problem with Daydreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio's day is not going the way he wants it to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Work has been crazy!
> 
> However, this chapter is a bit longer!

CHAPTER 5  
The Problem with Daydreaming

You’d think an E.R. would be busy, noisy, _loud_. But either it wasn’t or I couldn’t hear it. It was probably the latter, it seemed to be happening a lot today. It felt as if I was sleepwalking, or at least how I thought sleepwalking might feel like. I was aware of things, I could see people moving around me, nurses mostly, and I could definitely see Voight. But everyone else seemed to kind of blend into the background. Sounds were weird, too. I could hear my heart beating in my chest, and the sound of my own breathing, and I could hear the wheels of the gurney in which they were carrying Voight away from me, but that was all. No voices, no bustling sounds. Kind of like being under water. Muffled and distant. Yeah, that’s how I felt. I was also out of breath, so walking was an effort.

So much of an effort, that no matter how hard I tried to move my legs, I couldn’t move forward. _What was wrong with my legs?_ I looked down. They _were_ moving, but I was still frozen in place. The more that gurney wheeled away from me, the more desperate I became. I struggled against whatever invisible force was holding me back, and that’s about the time I realized it was no invisible force. It was Dr Choi.

“Hey, hey! Antonio, you can’t go back there!” he was saying, but he wasn’t angry. It sounded as if he was talking to a very small child. “We need to stitch him up, that’s all. He’ll be fine. But _you_ need to stay _here_.”

He was holding both my arms as if he were pinning me, only there was no wall behind me, just thin air. Had he always been that strong? I had a brief flashback to a supply closet and that very same pair of strong, muscled arms. It was only a moment, but it was enough to break whatever spell had taken over me. All of a sudden, the E.R. came to life, and I could hear and see everything I’d been ignoring before. It was just like waking up from a dream. Only now I felt embarrassed instead of confused, because I’d been acting as if _my fucking wife_ had been shot. _Stealthy, Antonio, real stealthy_.

“Yeah, sorry” I muttered. _Dammit_ , embarrassment was not a good idea right now. Especially not in front of Ethan Choi.

“It’s alright,” he replied, smiling, and he let go of my arms. “Glad to have you back.”

It would have been great to have a quick response. Sadly, my brain wasn’t exactly on my side lately and I just stayed there, looking dumb and embarrassed. _Great_.

Ethan smirked - fucking _smirked_ \- , patted me on the shoulder and jogged back in the direction the nurses had taken Voight.

With Choi out of sight, I sighed heavily and shook my head. I really needed to get my shit together. I couldn’t just go around acting like a sick sad puppy around Voight. People would start to notice, if they hadn’t already. I sat heavily in one of the blue plastic chairs in the reception and tried to get my bearings back.

Now that I had snapped out of my panic-induced haze, I took a moment to check myself. Nothing really hurt, not like I was injured. I was sore and tired, sure, but definitely in one piece. I leaned back on my seat and lifted my eyes, only to see a teenage girl staring at me with wide eyes. She was sitting across from me, hugging her school bag. She was skinny and blonde, and she was wearing a school uniform. Private school, clearly. She looked freaked out. I figured she was waiting for someone too, so I leaned forward a bit.

“Hey, you OK?” I asked, noticing how my voice seemed to be getting back to normal.

The girl gave me an even stranger look and lifted a perfectly styled eyebrow.

“I’m _great_ ,” she replied, though by her tone I could tell she was being sarcastic. Typical teen. Sounded just like my daughter, Eva. “Are _you_?”

I was startled at the way she punctuated _you_. I was fine! Voight was the one in critical condition. I was about to argue that I didn’t look like I _wasn’t_ fine, when I caught a glimpse of my own hands. Drying blood was smeared all over them. Voight’s blood. And if I had blood on my hands, then…

“I have blood on my face, don’t I?” I asked, knowing the answer.

She nodded slowly, eyes still wide, a terrified expression on her face. She lifted her right hand and made a circular gesture in my general direction.

“All over it,” she stated.

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Yeah, I could sit here and explain it wasn’t my blood, but somehow I doubted she actually cared. I clapped my hands on my thighs and stood up, heading to the men’s room to clean up. The girl nodded, a vacant look in her eyes. I wondered what had brought her to the E.R. in the first place.

What brings people to the E.R. anytime? Nothing good, I’ll tell you that. Mags had once told me that people come to the E.R. on the worst day of their lives. That statement had never rung truer to me than at that precise moment of my life. And I had been there myself on several occasions. But somehow, this time, it really felt like the worst day.  
Thinking like that wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I shook those ugly thoughts out of my head and made a beeline to the toilets. Luckily for me, I didn’t run into anyone on the way in. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced.

“No wonder she gave me that look,” I muttered to myself, laughing.

I was a wreck. My hair was a mess, and I could see dried blood everywhere I had run my hands over. That included my hair, my face, and even my clothes. I hadn’t even realized there had been that much blood. I splashed some water on my face and used a paper towel to clean the hardest spots. Usually, I would have used my handkerchief for this, but we all know what happened to that one. Once my face and hands were blood-free, I dried my hands and left the room. There was no point in trying to clean my clothes at that time. They would have to wait until I got home. Cold water and soap would do the trick. Don’t ask me how I know that.

I was making my way back to the reception when I was intercepted - and yes, I do think that’s an accurate word for this, _thank you very much_ \- by a petite blonde.

“Oh, hey Antonio!” Sylvie greeted me with a beaming smile, as if she hadn’t given me a ride here in the first place.

This time, I was determined to be nicer. Distraction, I needed something to distract me from Voight.

“Oh, hey Sylvie,” I said back, trying my best to sound casual. Not sure I managed. “What are you still doing here?”

“Oh, I just got caught up talking to one of the girls,” she threw a thumb back at the nurses’ station, and for a second I could swear I saw another nurse, April, watching us.

“Right, right, you must come here often” I joked. Pathetic little joke, I know, but it was the best I could do.

See, no matter how pretty and sweet Sylvie was, she wasn’t the one I wanted. And no amount of effort on my part, _or hers_ , was going to change that. My mind wandered back to Hank Voight, and I imagined myself having this very same casual conversation with him. I’d say “ _You must come here often_ ” and he would reply “ _Not as often as you, Dawson_ ” and I would laugh nonchalantly while secretly wishing I could wrap around my arms around his waist.

“This must have been such a crazy day for you,” Sylvie had been talking while I had been daydreaming. Thank god she hadn’t asked me anything.

Now the problem with daydreaming, is that it gets you in this mood where you talk without thinking. Which is what I did.

  
“Yeah, well, you know how it is. You almost get killed at noon so you’re pretty much ready for a date at 6, you know what I mean?”

Bad idea. I regretted it the moment I said it, but it was too late. _No backsies_ , my ex-wife Laura would sing back to me when I said something like that. And she’d be right. The moment the words left my mouth, Sylvie’s eyes lit up and she bit her lip, playfully.

“I guess it’s a date then,” she said.

She didn’t even give me a chance to protest. She winked, kissed me on the cheek, turned on her heels and left.

I was still trying to wrap myself around what had just happened, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Good luck trying to get out of _that_ ,” Dr. Choi said, from behind me.

I turned around to look at him and noticed he was wearing a white coat. Had he been wearing that before? I couldn’t remember. He always looked so professional with the coat on. What was I doing?

Dr. Choi noticed I wasn’t saying anything and clearly understood I wasn’t having a good day. So he motioned behind him, to one of the curtained beds.

“Are you ready to see him?’


	6. Look Like an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio finally gets to see Voight and Alvin has a confession to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Another chapter, finally!
> 
> I am terribly sorry that it took me so very long to post this one. But, honestly, work has been crazy! I'm a teacher, so teaching online now has been taking up a lot of my time.
> 
> However, I love this story and I am not going to give up on it! No matter how many papers I need to grade!
> 
> There you go!

CHAPTER 6  
Look like an idiot

Voight was in a regular E.R. treatment room. Which means, it wasn’t really a room at all. It looked more like a fish tank with its glass walls. I was glad and more than a little relieved to see he wasn’t hooked up to any machines, except for the customary heart monitor and I.V. Aside from the bed, the only other furniture was a plastic chair and a bedside table with wheels on it.

I sighed and took a good look at my boss - _love of my life,_ my mind kindly corrected me - and noticed his eyes were closed.

“He’s still under the effect of the sedatives,” Dr. Choi said before I could ask. He had Voight’s chart in his hand and was scribbling something on it with a pen. “They should wear off pretty quickly. I’m guessing he’ll be trying to escape the hospital in less than an hour.”

“Really? I’d put my money on 30 minutes,” a gruff voice joked from behind us.

I turned around to find Alvin leaning against the door frame, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of something greasy, if the oil that was staining the brown paper was anything to go by, in the other.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Dr Choi smiled and headed for the door. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. “Do _not_ let him get up, even if he threatens to fire you all.”

Alvin shook his head. _Yeah, right_. Like there’s any chance that Hank Voight will do anything other than what he wants to do. If he wanted to rip out his I.V. and walk out of that hospital, there was nothing any of us could do to stop him. Unless they sedated him again.

“So, how you doing?” Al asked me, taking me by surprise. He put the cup and the bag on the table, while giving Voight a once-over.

“I’m fine,” I replied all too quickly. Olinsky waited for me to continue. _Damn_. “I am, really. I just…” I trailed off.

What was I supposed to say? I’m glad my boss isn’t dead? I’m sorry I didn’t get shot in his place? No, that wasn’t what I really wanted to say. The truth was, I had gone off on Al earlier. I had shouted at him, in front of _everyone_. And Al, being the surprisingly sweet guy that he was, hadn’t made a peep. He’d just backed off. If I had done that to Voight, he would have _forced_ me to calm the hell down and go with the rest of the team. But not Al. No, he had seen. He had seen _me_. And now, I felt like a scumbag who’d kicked a puppy. I had to say something.

“Hey, man. I’m sorry,” I started. Olinsky frowned, like he had no idea what I was talking about. “About earlier.”

His eyes widened for a moment and he shrugged.

“No, I mean it.” I insisted. He had to know I regretted it. He couldn’t just shrug it off. This was an important apology, and I needed him to take it fucking seriously. “I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just, Voight was in the ambo, and he had just been shot right in front of me. And you didn’t deserve that. I was _way out of line_ …”

Al stopped me by raising his hand and I shut up immediately. I was about to tear up. Stupid, overwhelming day. Alvin walked closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, as if calming down a child, or a wild animal. I hated it. I hated that it worked, mostly.

“Hey, hey, no need to apologize. I get it,” he assured me. His voice was gentle, barely a whisper. It really did help calm me down.

I nodded and was about to pull away when he said something else that almost made my brain short-circuit.

“I love you,” he stated.

I don’t know what I was expecting to feel, but embarrassment wasn’t it. And yet, here I was, feeling as embarrassed as a kid who’d just been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Something about the way Al said _“I love you”_ , like he was joking but also not so joking, made me do a double take. My eyes travelled quickly to Voight’s sleeping form, making sure he was still out, and then back to Al’s warm brown gaze. He was smiling softly and I could feel that stupid blush creeping up my cheeks. Don’t ask me how, but at that point I was _god damned sure_ Alvin Olinsky knew about my feelings for Voight and this was his way of telling me it was all good with him. Not that I needed his permission, only maybe I did. He _was_ Voight’s oldest friend, after all. Of course, that wouldn’t mean shit if Voight was stone-cold straight and not one little bit interested in me. Still, it was nice to know Al approved.

I nodded a bit, fighting the blush. “Thanks,” I said, clapping him on the back and starting for the door, just needing to get away.

Alvin held on to my arm and I looked at him, confused. He was giving me an incredulous look, like I’d just lost my mind. He leaned closer to me, as if to tell me a secret.

“Now, you see, you gotta tell me you love me too,” he whispered, like this was the most important piece of information he had to share. “Otherwise, I look like an idiot.”

I huffed a laugh. Al and his weird ways. I thought he was joking. He had to be, right? But he wasn’t letting go of my arm and he was looking dead serious. This meant something to him. Al wasn’t the kind of guy who just did random shit like this. There was a reason behind it. I just had no idea what that reason was, yet. I sighed deeply, gathering courage. If he wanted me to say it, then I’d say it.

“I love you too, man” I finally said.

Somehow, at that moment, a huge weight was lifted from my chest. I honestly don’t have a clue as to why it felt like that, but it did. And Al was giving me a huge smile, like he was proud of me or something.

“Good, good,” he nodded, happily, and sent me on my way.

I was still a little dumbfounded, but as I made my way out that door, I chanced a look back inside the room. I could swear Voight’s hands had been limp at his sides. Now, his right hand was clenched in a fist. _Weird. I must be imagining things._ Coffee, coffee would help me clear my head.


	7. Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voight's unconscious mind wanders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends!
> 
> I'm not going to lie. I LOVE this chapter. I loved writing it. I love reading it. 
> 
> I hope you do too!
> 
> A little change in the POV.

CHAPTER 7  
Loop

_I’m walking down the street with Antonio. We’ve been staking out a house, waiting to see a guy. It must be a bad guy. I can’t really remember right now. It doesn’t seem important. I know I’m surprised that Antonio is walking with me, but I’m not exactly pissed. I enjoy his company and I trust him. He always has my back and I have his. We work well together._

_It should feel normal, only it doesn’t. I’ve already done this about ten times today alone. We are approaching the house. Then something happens. I don’t see it, but I turn to Antonio and I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows exactly what it is and it’s not good. He reaches for me, just as I feel a sharp pain in my neck. Before I know what’s happening, I’m falling to my knees. As I go down, I’m not scared. Antonio is right beside me and he catches me, just as I knew he would. I have this sense of urgency right then. There’s something important I need to tell Antonio. He looks desperate, his eyes wide, his skin pale. I know what he’s thinking, that he’s failed me in some way. I can’t have that. I need to tell him it’s alright. I know he’ll look after me. But I can’t speak, so I just look at him. And then everything goes black._

_When I open my eyes again, we’re back near the car, walking towards the house. It’s like a loop. I know it’s a loop. But no matter how hard I try, I’m not in control of myself. I just repeat the same actions, feel the same feelings, think the same thoughts. Nothing ever changes. It ends when I close my eyes. I open my eyes, and here we are again._

_I’ve relived the loop enough times to know exactly everything that happens, who’s there, what smells there are. So, you can understand my surprise, when suddenly someone appears who isn’t supposed to be there._

_We are walking towards the house. Antonio is talking about stretching his legs. A girl and her mother are buying flowers from a vendor. So far, so good. Except the vendor isn’t a vendor. It’s Alvin Olinsky. My friend, Al. He’s wearing his usual black coat and hat. He gives the girl the flowers and, still smiling, he waves at us. Correction, he waves at Antonio._

_Antonio leaves my side immediately, and I stay back, frozen in place, like I’m in a movie that someone paused. I watch passively, unable to move, unable to talk, as Al and Antonio lean close to each other in order to have what looks like a very private conversation. For a moment, I feel like I’m invading their privacy. Whatever’s happening here, I’m not a part of it. Then again, I want to hear what they’re saying. I feel like I need to know. So I strain against my invisible bonds as much as I can, until the air shifts and I can hear part of their conversation. Thinking about it now, I probably should have left well enough alone. Cause what I hear, I can’t unhear it. And what I feel, I can’t unfeel it. So here I am, frozen in place, watching in horror as my friend Alvin tells my - colleague? Friend? Interest? - Antonio that he loves him._

_I stop breathing for a moment, clenching my fists, straining against my bonds again. I want to punch Alvin. Hey, I’m just as surprised as you are. But like I said, I can’t unfeel what I feel. And I feel rage, betrayal. Like Alvin is overstepping. Like he’s crossing a line that he knows not to cross. A line that I set in place a long time ago._

_I can feel the air shifting again. Dammit. I’m falling back into the loop. I can feel it pulling me back towards the car, towards the beginning. But before it starts again, I hear Antonio’s response and I stop breathing again._

_See, it’s funny, because the words “I love you too” are usually followed by joy. In this case, they are followed by grief._


	8. It's just the job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!!
> 
> Preptober got me writing again, even through all the craziness of COVID-19 and total lockdown (yes, we are still in lockdown... awesome)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 8

It's just the job

I've never really been a glass-half-full kind of guy. I used to be the brooding type, the wallow-in-your-misery-till-you-cant-get-up type. But this whole Voight situation is bringing out a whole new Antonio even _I_ didn't know existed.

See, the old Antonio would have stayed in that hospital room, covered in blood and smelling like garbage, until Voight was cleared to go. But today I had a date. Yes, I know I didn't actually want to go on said date. But it was a good excuse to go home, take a shower, change clothes and actually eat something. And if it helped me get my mind off things and prevent myself from accidentally blurting out that I was in love with Voight, then all the better, right? We’re just going to pretend like I was not using Sylvie and stringing her along for my own personal gain. Shut up.

So, coffee in hand, I made a last stop at Voight’s hospital room, hoping to have a few more minutes to myself before heading back to my apartment. Of course, luck was not on my side, and I found one detective Erin Lindsay sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed, one hand clasped around a donut (courtesy of Olinsky, no doubt) ang gently caressing Voight’s cheek with the other. I stepped close to the door but didn't go inside. It felt like I was intruding in a very intimate moment, yet I could not look away. 

Lindsay wass usually so put together, a real badass, a real Voight’s girl. There was no question in anyone’s mind that if Voight had had a girl, she would have been like Lindsay. There was also no doubt that he regarded her as his own daughter. The only question yet to be answered was whether she considered him a father as well. Sometimes it seemed clear enough. They were familiar yet distant. They argued, sure, especially after Voight found out she was sleeping with Halstead. Though I wasn’t not sure if he was angry because of the sleeping or because he was the last one to find out. 

Other times, such as right now, I wondered. The way she was gently stroking his cheek seemed like more than father-daughter to me. It had _lover_ written all over it. Then again, I may have been reading too much into this as I would have loved to be the one doing the stroking, maybe in another area. _This is not the time, Dawson. Get out of the gutter!_

I cleared my throat to make myself noticed and she turned her head towards me. I noticed, a tad too possessively, that she did not remove her hand from Voight’s cheek. _Dial it back, Dawson. He’s not yours._ I had to actually breathe in and out a few times to calm myself down when I finally walked in. It’s amazing how my blood raced anytime I saw someone too close to Voight. If I didn’t get this under control, people were going to start noticing. If they hadn’t already. 

I stopped mid-step, my eyes wide. What if Lindsay knew? Did she? Was that why she was here? She could have been waiting for me. She could be planning to confront me about Voight. Or maybe she was furious at me, because I got him shot. Of course she was! That’s why she was here, guarding him. She didn’t think I protected him. She thought I had failed him. It made me angry, so I balled my fists and felt the rush of blood that meant I was ready to fight, a turmoil of emotions making my head spin.

“Look, if you’re here to yell at me,” I began..

Lindsay frowned and licked sugar off her lips. “What?” she asked over a mouthful of donut, looking confused.

I was taken aback. That didn’t sound half as angry as I imagined it would. “Because I got him shot,” I stated simply, getting ready to continue with my defense. I knew what she was going to say. She was going to say that I was an irresponsible piece of shit and that if I had had my eyes open, this wouldn’t have happened. Because it _shouldn’t_ have happened. I was ready for that. I had a whole fucking speech at the ready in my defense. She didn’t give me a chance, though.

“You _didn’t_ get him shot,” she replied matter-of-factly. I hated it when she did that, and acted the opposite of what I expected. It also made her lovable. Erin Lindsay was so… zen, sometimes. It was as if she knew all the secrets in the universe and it gave her that chill sort of vibe. Clearly a clash against the lets-get-hysterical act I had going on at the moment.

She leaned back on the chair and looked back at Voight. I stood there, dumbfounded - _again,_ might I add. Must be, what? The eighth time today that I felt that way? I waited for her to elaborate, but after about three minutes of awkward silence it was clear she had no intention to do so. Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air, begin some invisible deity to illuminate me.

I heard Lindsay snort and then cough a few times. I guess her laughter caused her to choke on her donut. I handed her my cup of coffee, to help her wash it down.

“Th-Thanks,” she stuttered, still coughing. Luckily, she hadn’t turned red or anything. When the coughing fit was over, she cleared her throat and gave me a pointed look.

“What?” I asked, defensively. Was the coughing my fault too, now?

“You _didn’t_ get him shot, Antonio” she said. “It’s just the job. He was lucky you were there.”

The way she said it, the soft tone of her voice, I don’t know. I guess it lifted some part of the weight I had been feeling since that morning. I was close to tearing up, I felt so relieved. Suddenly, I felt Lindsay’s warm hand on my arm and I finally met her gaze again. She was smiling this time.

“Besides,” she continued, looking back at Voight with a fond smile, “he’ll be up and running in no time. You just wait. Nothing can really knock down Hank Voight.”

Before that day, I used to believe that too. Now, seeing him on that bed, pale, with the bandages around his neck, he seemed just as fragile as one of my grandma’s delicate wine glasses. You know the type, the ones that sit in a cupboard behind a glass window, and you can only use it on special occasions. That’s how Voight looked right then. Like he needed to be protected. Better protected than what I managed.

“Hey, don’t look so gloom,” Lindsay said.

I managed a smile, fake as it was,and looked at my watch. Shit, Sylvie said her shift finished at six. That meant I only had one hour to get home, take a shower and change into something decent.

I hurried to the door, and then on second thought I traced my steps back and kissed Erin on the cheek.

“Thanks for the pep-talk," I told her, whole-heartedly. She really _had_ changed my mood. _See how easy I could go back to brooding?_

Lindsay grinned from ear to ear when she saw some colour back in my face. So I felt the occasion called for it. I lifted my fist and held it up for her to bump. Erin looked at me like I had lost it.

"Come on," I chanted. "You know you want to."

She scrunched up her face and eyed my fist suspiciously.

"Fine, but only a fist bump. If you do that explosion thing I swear to God!"

I shook my head and nodded to my fist again, feeling laughter beginning to bubble up inside me. Wow, what a change!

Lindsay sighed heavily and fist-bumped me reluctantly.... And I did the thing with my hand where I opened it as if a bomb had exploded.

I barely got time to duck the hell out of that room. Even as I was rushing down the corridor I could hear Lindsay's angry threats directed at me. I gotta tell you, for a fucking bad day, that was a whole lot of fun. Even if I am in my forties. Who said you can't be silly after a traumatic near-death experience?


End file.
